


In Which Eeyore Enjoys the View

by Truth



Category: A A Milne - Winnie the Pooh
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/pseuds/Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing so fine as a walk before tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Eeyore Enjoys the View

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boingboing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boingboing/gifts).



There was something to be said, and indeed there often is, about the unexpected consequences of inattention to one’s surroundings. Winne-the-Pooh was not the one to say it, particularly because he was so often entirely oblivious to anything save the faint urgings of his tummy.

Pooh’s observations were normally of the sort that led to pronouncements such as, ‘It must be nearly lunchtime,’ or ‘Is that tea and, if it is, have you any honey to go with it?’.

The observation that there was something amiss in the very large tree that grew not so far from Roo’s sandy pit was thus left to Piglet. Piglet was very good at noticing things, although his observations were more of the, ‘Do you think that is really safe?’ or ‘I think that I should go home now,’ variety.

“Pooh,” said Piglet, who had somehow found himself behind his larger friend and was now peering past him with a worried sort of air. “Pooh, I think there is something wrong with that tree.”

“What tree?” They had been on their regular afternoon walk, simply wandering slowly through the Hundred Acre Wood, ‘so as to build a proper appetite for tea’. Pooh had been thinking very seriously about tea and thus, Piglet’s comment took him by surprise. He stopped very still and looked around, most of his thoughts still on tea and how many honey pots were waiting for him, all in a row, and how much he should have to share with Piglet or whether Piglet might not prefer jam.

“That one!” Piglet pointed, but by then Pooh had found himself thoroughly distracted and entirely lost.

“What one?” Pooh asked, peering at the ground about them, as if searching for his much anticipated tea. “Where?”

“Oh Pooh.” Piglet sighed, well used to Pooh’s lack of attention to anything that did not come in a pot with the word ‘hunny’ across it. “The tree over there. The tall one. With the-“ and he paused to swallow, entirely accidentally putting Pooh even more between himself and the tree in question, “-the lump.”

Pooh took a minute to look around again, just in case someone had left a pot of honey on the path in order to solace any passing bears in need of a snack. He finally looked up, taking in the spreading branches far above them. “This tree?”

“Yes, Pooh. Up near the top. Do you see it?” Piglet had now disappeared entirely behind his round friend, only the end of his scarf indicating that he was still present at all.

“Are you sure?” Pooh peered upward, shading his eyes with one paw. “Perhaps it is a nest of bees.” He licked his lips hopefully and rubbed his tummy, which was feeling very empty. “And bees mean honey, you know.”

“I don’t think so, Pooh.” Piglet’s voice came tremulously from somewhere just out of sight. “It’s not the right shape and it, well, it seems to me that it looks more of a – a woozle sort of creature. Do woozles climb trees, Pooh?”

Pooh considered this, still staring upward. “They might. It’s hard to tell with woozles. They can be tricky, you know.”

“P-perhaps we should go home. It’s almost time for tea after all and w-we wouldn’t want to be late.” Piglet peered out from behind Pooh, plucking nervously at his scarf. “And woozles are terribly dangerous, aren’t they?”

“I think-“ Pooh began, but what he thought was never to be known, as he was interrupted by the sudden ‘thump’ of something soft landing across his nose. “Piglet,” he ventured, feeling cautiously at the strange thing that was covering his eyes, “Is it suppertime already? I do hope we didn’t miss our tea.”

“No, Pooh,” Piglet said, looking worriedly at the grey thing draped across Pooh’s head. “There is something over your eyes. It looks very much like… a tail!”

“A tail?” Pooh turned round and round, attempting to see the tail. This going in circles made him dizzy and in turning he tripped over something!

“Pooh!”

The something appeared to be Piglet, who reached up to pull the tail-like thing off of Pooh’s head. Blinking, Pooh looked down at Piglet. “I’m so very sorry, Piglet. I did not mean to trip over you.”

“It’s all right, Pooh.” Piglet gave him a somewhat pained smile and got to his feet, still holding the tail-like thing in one hand.

Pooh peered at it, tipping his head to one side. “It looks like a tail because it is a tail. How did it get onto my head?”

“P-perhaps the woozle dropped it?” Piglet ducked behind Pooh again. “Do woozles have tails?”

“Some of them might.” Pooh was still looking at the tail, furry brow furrowed as an idea attempted to make itself known. “This tail looks… familiar somehow.”

“Do you know any woozles, Pooh?” Piglet said. He peered worriedly at the tail. “Doesn’t that look like - Eeyore’s tail?”

“Do you know, Piglet, I think you may be right.” Pooh pulled gently at the tail. “Look, you can see where Christopher Robin nailed it back on.”

“But- but why did the woozle have Eeyore’s tail?” Piglet’s voice dropped to a worried whisper. “Do woozles,” and he paused to swallow nervously, “eat Eeyores?”

“I don’t think so,” Pooh decided, looking up into the tree again. “I don’t think that’s a woozle. I think it’s an Eeyore.”

“B-but,” as Piglet stared nervously up at the dark lump in the high branches, “I don’t remember Eeyore being shaped quite like that. Or being so… pointy. Or blue.”

Pooh tut-tutted this, peering upward at the oddly shaped lump in the branches above. “Hallloooo! Eeyore!”

Far above their heads, wedged in the high branches, his long ears hanging before him, was a creature that was in many respects not at all unlike Eeyore. He was mostly grey and had four legs, although his tail was still held in Pooh’s hand. Piglet’s observations were also correct, however, as there was a certain blue pointiness to him that really was not at all Eeyore-like.

“Hallloooo!” Pooh called again.

Faintly, a voice floated down from the branches. “Is that you, Pooh?”

“Yes, and Piglet, too!” Pooh seemed very pleased to have correctly identified their friend, and held up Eeyore’s tail. “You seem to have lost your tail, Eeyore. Again!”

“Is that where it’s got off to.” Eeyore sounded unsurprised, voice slow and thoughtful. “I’d wondered.”

Feeling much braver now that it seemed the strange shape above them was not, in fact, a woozle, Piglet ventured forward to stare upward himself. “How did you get up into that tree, Eeyore? Do Eeyores climb very well?” It was hard to believe, despite the undeniable fact that Eeyore was indeed up a tree. Eeyore seemed built mostly for quiet contemplation and perhaps a bit of melancholy wandering.

“Apparently not.” Eeyore peered down at them. “I seem to be stuck, which is no more than is to be expected.”

“But how did you get up so high?” Piglet asked.

“Are there any bees up there?” Pooh said, peering upward hopefully. “Perhaps with honey?”

“No bees,” Eeyore said. He glanced around as best he could, just to be sure. It was difficult to see around the large blue thing he seemed tangled in. “I can’t see very well, but bees are rather noisy and my ears seem to work well enough. At least for the moment.”

“But Eeyore,” and Piglet raised his voice to a squeak, attempting to be heard over Pooh’s continuing questions concerning bees and honey, “how did you get so far up that tree?”

“It’s rather a difficult thing to explain,” Eeyore began, wiggling slowly so that he wasn’t hanging in quite such an upside down way. “I was minding my own business, simply walking through the wood, when suddenly my feet were no longer properly on the ground. There was a sort of… tangling and then a whooshing, and things became very confused and now I’m upside down.”

“And in a tree,” Pooh reminded him helpfully. “Are you sure there aren’t any bees?”

Piglet sighed. “Perhaps we should find a ladder?” He swallowed nervously. “He’s awfully – high, isn’t he?”

“We should find Christopher Robin,” Pooh decided. “He’ll know what to do.”

“Will Eeyore jump? If we had a tunic, I mean?” Piglet remembered the last time someone, or someones, had been stuck in a tree.

“I could jump,” Eeyore allowed, “although it could mean that I’d break into a million pieces. I am, after all, much larger than Tigger, and it was a very small tunic.”

“Oh dear,” Pooh sat down with a thump, staring up into the tree. He rallied. “I’m certain you could do it, Eeyore.”

“I could,” Eeyore said, “if I weren’t stuck.” He tipped his weight a little, slowly swinging so that he could look down at Pooh and Piglet clearly. “I’m attached to something.”

“You could climb the tree, Pooh,” Piglet said.

Pooh considered this. “Not if there isn’t any honey. A tree without honey is the wrong sort of tree for a bear to be climbing.”

“It will have to be a ladder,” Piglet decided, putting his small shoulders back and his chin up. “Let’s find Christopher Robin.”

“Go along,” Eeyore told them. He sighed, finding himself again slowly swinging until he was head down and with his ears again hanging untidily in front of his eyes. “I’ll manage. Somehow. Or possibly not.”

“Come on, Pooh.” Piglet caught at Pooh’s paw and tugged. “We’ll find Christopher Robin, Eeyore. Hang in there.” He blushed at the pun, not meaning to make fun of Eeyore’s delicate situation.

“Good-bye, Eeyore!” Pooh called, stumbling after Piglet as he was tugged along the path. He waved with his free paw as they disappeared over the edge of the rise, leaving Eeyore alone again.

It was quite some distance from the tree where Eeyore dangled to Christopher Robin’s house, and Piglet skittered along as fast as his little legs would carry him. Pooh bumbled along behind him, thinking wistfully of his tea.

Their journey had just begun when a flash of color and a howl of glee brought Pooh to a halt. Piglet vanished entirely, leaving Pooh standing alone on the edge of the path, looking to the left and right. “Piglet?” Pooh wavered, thoughts of tea and honey driven entirely from his fuzzy head. He looked up to see if Piglet had somehow been swept up into one of the nearby trees and wondering if he might be next.

“Perhaps there is some strange creature that puts people up in trees?” Pooh took a worried step backward. “Or maybe –“

There came another yowl of delight and Pooh found himself tumbling head over heels along the path, coming to rest at last on his back with a Tigger upon his stomach.

“Oh Tigger,” Pooh said, when he finally caught his breath. “It’s you!”

“It-it certainly is,” came Piglet’s voice. He was somewhat caught in the underbrush into which Tigger had pounced him, and was attempting to free himself, with a great feeling of ill-usage.

As the rustling and crackling of Piglet’s attempted escape continued, Pooh looked thoughtfully up at Tigger. “Have you seen Christopher Robin today, Tigger?”

“I have.” Tigger helped Pooh to his feet. “Whatever has happened to Piglet? I was sure that I saw him here somewhere.”

“I believe,” said Pooh, listening for a moment, “that you startled him into those brambles.”

There was a brief pause as Piglet was freed from the brambles and then another pause as Tigger had to go back into the brambles to retrieve Piglet’s scarf. When, at last, everything was again in order, Pooh asked, “Where did you see Christopher Robin, Tigger?”

Tigger made a hemming and hawing sort of noise, seeming suddenly very interested in his paws.

“What was that?” Piglet asked, busily winding his scarf around himself again.

“He’s in the meadow,” Tigger said, still examining his paws.

“Whatever is he doing there?” Pooh said.

“He was flying a kite.” Tigger shuffled a little, this time staring up into the sky. “Earlier, I mean. Before.”

“Before what?” Piglet was certain that he could guess.

“Well, it moved so very fast,” Tigger said, still shuffling a little bit, as if remembering how Piglet felt about bouncing. “I’ve never seen a kite up close before, and the wind brought it down and it was coming right toward me and so –“

“And so you pounced on it.” Piglet looked very triumphant at having guessed correctly, but also a trifle cross. He was still dwelling on having been startled into those brambles. “Oh Tigger.”

“Where is the kite now?” Pooh looked around.

Tigger shuffled again and this time it seemed clear that he was rather embarrassed. “I don’t know. I landed on its tail, and it came away in my paws and I startled Christopher Robin so that he let go of the string and the wind blew it away in whoops and whirls.” He paused for reflection. “It was very exciting.”

“That’s what the blue pointy thing was!” Piglet gave a little bounce of excitement himself, but had the grace to look embarrassed. “It must be! Eeyore is caught in Christopher Robin’s kite!”

“It was rather blue,” Tigger said, brightening somewhat. “Where is it now? Christopher Robin and Rabbit and I have been looking for it for days.”

“Days?” Pooh gave a shudder, imagining a long, fruitless hunt for a runaway kite without any honey to sustain him. Tea suddenly seemed a very long way away.

“Well, perhaps an hour or two,” Tigger admitted. “It was a very big gust of wind.”

“We must find Christopher Robin,” Piglet declared, and then became very startled and rather embarrassed by this unexpected display of leadership. “That is, if you think so, Pooh?”

Christopher Robin was easily found, as both he and Tigger had been attempting to follow the wind and he was just over the next rise of the path, worriedly scanning the sky for his missing kite.

“Christopher Robin! Oh, Christopher Robin!” Tigger and Piglet both began talking at once, gesturing and dancing at Christopher Robin’s feet until he was forced to put both hands over his ears.

“One at a time, one at a time!” He looked past them to where Pooh was frowning very intently at nothing at all. “What’s going on, Pooh?”

“I was thinking that it might be best if we had tea now, instead of later. So that we are not rescuing anyone on an empty stomach, you understand. And I’m sure Eeyore is in need of tea himself, so if there’s any left over, we could bring him some.”

Piglet, Tigger and Christopher Robin all stared at Pooh.

“Oh Pooh.” Piglet gave him a disappointed look. “You can’t be thinking about tea at a time like this!”

“No, no. He’s right. I’m hungry too,” Tigger announced, placing a paw on his stomach.

Christopher Robin looked from one to the other. “What’s all this about rescuing?” he asked.

“We found your kite,” Piglet said. “B-but it found Eeyore first and now they’re both stuck up in a tree!”

“Tigger?” Christopher Robin folded his arms, remembering the last time one of the inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood had found themselves up in a tree.

“I had nothing to do with it!” Tigger said. He gave an indignant swish of his tail as he looked up at Christopher Robin. Honesty compelled him to add, “Well, maybe the first bit, where the kite lost its tail, but after that, I am innocent!”

“ – and perhaps just a dab of honey.”

They all turned to look at Pooh, who was still very quietly solacing his empty stomach with thoughts of tea.

“Let’s rescue Eeyore,” Christopher Robin told him fondly, “and then we will all sit down to an early supper.”

“With honey?”

“Of course!” Christopher Robin said. “Now, where is Eeyore? I mean, in which tree?”

They all trooped back to the tree to look up at Eeyore, who had now managed to somehow tangle himself completely upside down and was telling a curious bird about how being upside down was not at all good for one, but that he supposed it wouldn’t matter in the end.

“I see you’ve found Christopher Robin.” Eeyore said. “Hello. Come to see me in my new habitat?”

“A tree is no place for an Eeyore,” Christopher Robin said, smiling up at the donkey. “How did you get all tangled up with my kite?”

“This is your contraption?” Eeyore looked down at the group, not that he had much of a choice. “Did Tigger have something to do with this? It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Let’s get you down from there,” Christopher Robin said. He paused to think. “Tigger, run and fetch Owl. I will need to find something at home. Piglet, you stay here and keep Eeyore company.”

“What about me?” Pooh asked. He tugged at the edge of Christopher Robin’s coat. “What shall I do?”

“You will plan a wonderful supper for everyone, to celebrate rescuing Eeyore and finding my kite.” Christopher Robin said. “Come along, now everyone!”

As Christopher Robin and Tigger hurried away, Pooh sat down beneath the tree to have a good think about the promised supper. As he muttered under his breath about honey and haycorns and possibly thistles, Piglet tried to engage Eeyore in conversation.

“It’s no good,” Eeyore said finally, heaving a great sigh. “I shall have to get used to thinking of myself as a bird, and birds aren’t much for proper conversation. Singing and chirping will become my lot, and I haven’t the voice for it.”

Quite overcome by the image of Eeyore as a bird, perched in the high branches and giving voice to the occasional, melancholy ‘chirp’, Piglet put his scarf over his head and ceased all attempts at discussion.

As tea finally vanished into the afternoon as an opportunity lost for good, Tigger came rushing and tumbling back to the tree, causing Piglet to scramble for cover. Owl soared majestically overhead, somewhat spoiling the image by nearly flying smack into a branch.

“My goodness. Eeyore, how did you – “

“It is most probably Tigger’s fault,” Eeyore said, addressing his remarks toward the ground. “I have run afoul of a kite, whatever that is, and should probably start thinking of nests.”

Christopher Robin chose that moment to return, quite out of breath from running. Piglet and Tigger and Pooh gathered round him while Owl and Eeyore peered down from above.

“I have everything we need,” Christopher Robin said, putting down the bag he’d been carrying over his shoulder. They watched as he pulled forth a ball of string and a pair of scissors. “Now, in order for this to work, I shall need a brave volunteer.” Everyone looked at each other cautiously, so Christopher Robin added, “A brave, very small, volunteer.”

Everyone looked at Piglet.

“M-me?” he said. He looked around to see if Christopher Robin might have meant some other small person, one who was perhaps standing just behind Piglet where he couldn’t be seen easily.

“That’s very brave of you, Piglet,” Christopher Robin said. “Now, here’s what we’ll need to do.”

So it was that Piglet, not feeling very brave at all, found himself tucked neatly into Christopher Robin’s bag, clutching both the scissors and ball of string. He kept his eyes tightly shut as Owl picked up the bag and flew upwards, muttering quietly to himself. “Brave, Piglet. You’re very brave. Everyone said so. You can do this. Brave.”

He wasn’t entirely sure that he believed it.

Owl settled on a branch beside Eeyore and walked sideways until he was right beside the unfortunate donkey. Piglet mumbled something that was almost about bravery but ended up with seasickness and everyone turned away until he had recovered himself properly.

“What are you planning to do?” Eeyore peered at the bag and at Piglet, who was hanging on to the edge very tightly indeed. “If you’ve come for tea, Piglet, I seem to be unable to oblige. The tea things being, as it were, on the ground and me, as you can see, up in a tree. Of course, you could have some leaves, I suppose?”

“Oh do be quiet, Eeyore.” Owl peered down at Piglet. “You haven’t dropped the string, have you?”

From down below, very little could be actually seen of what was going on up in the branches. The occasional sad little moan of a seasick Piglet could be heard, and more than once Owl made a very loud remark about watching where Piglet was aiming the scissors, but eventually Owl called down to those waiting below.

“The wind is from the east! Are you ready?”

“Which way is east?” Pooh wanted to know.

“This way,” Christopher Robin said. There was a faint thump as Piglet’s ball of string landed on the ground. The end was somewhere still high in the tree, but Christopher Robin picked it up anyway. “Come on.”

They all trotted to the eastward as Christopher Robin called out, “We’re ready, Owl!”

There came a muffled grumble from the high branches, a breathless cry of, “That’s my foot, Owl!” followed by several mournful remarks that were thankfully inaudible.

“Heave ho!” Came a shout from Owl.

The string that Christopher Robin had been holding was suddenly loose in his hand and he turned, running away from the tree. A moment later, with a crackling and a crashing, a large blue kite broke free of the tree and began to soar downward, making a series of very large, lazy loops in the air.

Owl followed it, hooting cheerfully. There were no sounds from Piglet, as he had subsided to the bottom of the bag with his scarf again over his head.

The kite hit the ground with a decided thump and so did Piglet’s bag. In the excitement, Owl had let go of it and it had fallen to a fairly soft and decidedly Tigger-shaped landing.

“Owwww!”

“Oooooh….”

“Oh dear,” said Christopher Robin. He watched Piglet crawl from the bag and leaned against Tigger.

“Has the ground always spun around and around like this?” Piglet asked.

“No. Yes. Help?” The bag had somehow gotten stuck over Tigger’s head. Pooh eventually managed to pull it off. Piglet was no help at all, mumbling about how there were at least two Tiggers too many, all of them with bags over their heads and how it just wasn’t right.

Leaving Pooh to sort things out, Christopher Robin gently lifted the kite.

Still upside down and rather the worse for wear, Eeyore blinked up at his rescuer. “Flying,” he declared solemnly, “is not as much fun as you might think.”

Smiling, Christopher Robin set about freeing Eeyore from the kite.

Pooh’s extensive thinking about an early supper turned out to be very helpful. They trooped to Pooh’s house to find honey and then Piglet’s house for haycorns and finally ended up with Kanga and Roo for their supper.

While Christopher Robin carefully reattached Eeyore’s tail, Tigger told Kanga and Roo the entire story.

“How very brave you were, Piglet,” Kanga said. She smiled at him, and Piglet felt himself blushing. He hadn’t felt very brave.

“It was very brave,” Christopher Robin agreed, patting Eeyore as the donkey gently swished his tail. “After all, the bravest things are those that you do even when you’re scared.”

“Thank you, Piglet,” Eeyore said. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed being a bird.”

“I wouldn’t enjoy it either,” agreed Piglet, thinking of his perilous flight with Owl.

“Flying,” said Owl solemnly, “is not for everyone.”

“I think that I shall put my kite away,” Christopher Robin said. “There’s been enough flying for a while.”

‘At least,’ thought Piglet, still blushing a little from all the praise, ‘Tigger finally knows how it feels to be pounced!’

Which was, perhaps, not the best possible moral to the story, but it gave Piglet a warm feeling that lasted for quite some time.


End file.
